


The seeds of love lie cold and still

by kimabutch (CWoodP)



Series: RQG Femslash Week 2020 [2]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Confessions, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Late Night Conversations, Pining, Religious Themes, spoilers for RQG 131
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23278789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CWoodP/pseuds/kimabutch
Summary: Sometime after the Shoin mission, Curie and Azu talk.Written for day two of RQG Femslash Week: Confessions.
Relationships: Azu & Marie Curie (Rusty Quill Gaming), Azu/Sasha Racket, Eldarion/Marie Curie (Rusty Quill Gaming), Marie Curie (Rusty Quill Gaming)/Eldarion
Series: RQG Femslash Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672117
Comments: 18
Kudos: 25
Collections: RQG Femslash Week 2020





	The seeds of love lie cold and still

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from The Last Time I Saw Her Face by Gordon Lightfoot. Thanks to Redd for beta-reading!

The Harlequin headquarters in the former al-Tahan residence are not particularly quiet nor dark at night. From her too-small bed in what Azu thinks was once a supply closet, she can hear footsteps occasionally passing by her bedroom door in the brightly-lit corridor. There’s something vaguely anxiety-inducing about the constant low-level commotion and her cramped space, and with Hamid, Cel, and Zolf sleeping in separate rooms, Azu can’t calm herself enough to fall asleep. She finds herself rising from her bed and wandering into the halls, letting her feet lead her nowhere in particular. When Harlequin staff and agents rush by, they pay her very little mind — the organization has extended their full trust to the group following their return from Japan. 

After several minutes of aimless walking, Azu stops outside Saleh’s old bedroom, where Einstein had made Hamid and her wait when they had arrived back in Cairo after Rome. The door is slightly ajar and the room dark behind it, but as she gently pushes it open, she is surprised to see Marie Curie sitting on a bed draped with a dust cover, lit only by the soft moonlight streaming in from cracks in the boarded-up windows. 

Azu starts to back out, but Curie, looking up, motions for her to come in and join her. Azu awkwardly takes a seat on a crate opposite her. Curie’s gaze follows her to her seat with a drawn look. In the weeks that Hamid and Azu have been gone in Japan, the lines under Curie’s eyes have only deepened. Though she held herself proudly when they met with her during the day to discuss their mission, her thin body now reveals its exhaustion as she hunches over a steaming mug in her hands. A deep, tired sadness suffuses the room, weighing on Azu’s heart. 

Noticing that the magical table that so long ago provided much-needed moonshine to the party has been shoved into the room with other unused furniture, Azu walks over, produces a large mug of Kenyan ginger tea, and returns to her crate. She sits in silence with Curie, breathing in the comforting scent of home and staring at the dusty floor. 

“Would you do me the kindness of answering a question?” Curie says quietly after several minutes. 

Azu, confused at the sudden overture, nods.

“What were your impressions of Eldarion when you met her in Rome?” Her words are measured and carefully chosen but bear that same veiled mourning that was evident when she had learned of Eldarion’s death several weeks ago.

Azu considers the question for a moment, torn between honesty and an instinctive desire to soothe the woman across from her. “She was… brave,” Azu says finally. “She knew that she could not bring all of us and herself back from the plane, and she chose to sacrifice herself for strangers. But… she was not nice. Not to Sasha,” she continues, remembering her own fury at Eldarion’s treatment of Sasha. “She cared for her, but she thought she knew what was best for her. She treated her like a child, and did not respect her as an adult.” 

Curie closes her eyes and sighs. “Thank you for your candour. Eldarion always had a… blind spot with regards to Sasha. She did not know how to respond to her pain. I fear she did her student a great disservice in the end, and only added to her grief. Despite how much she cared for her.” 

Curie sips deeply from her mug. Her voice is barely a whisper now. “She was my wife.”

Azu exhales, not in surprise but in pain for Curie’s resigned devastation. 

“Twenty-three years,” Curie continues softly. “In our line of work, it is dangerous to make those kinds of emotional connections obvious to those who might exploit them. I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.” 

Azu resists the urge to reach out for Curie’s hand, unsure how to comfort her. “It is not easy to mourn alone —” Azu begins, but Curie waves her words away with a hand, and the silence resumes.

“I spoke with Sasha twice,” Curie says, as if reciprocating the discussion of Eldarion. “We met when she came to Prague. Before your time, I believe. The name given was Ricketts, but I knew her from Eldarion’s descriptions. She was… understandably guarded and afraid. She was just becoming aware of her necromantic affliction at the time. But she was nevertheless protective of her friends, even in her fear.” 

“That sounds like her,” Azu says. Her fingers have unconsciously wandered to the Heart of Aphrodite that hangs from her neck. She twists it around and around on its chain, feeling the familiar presence of her goddess, warm in her heart, encouraging her to share Curie’s openness. 

“I knew Sasha for only two weeks,” Azu says, trying to find the words. “It wasn’t long enough, but…” 

“But you cared for her,” Curie says, after Azu trails off.

“I… loved her.” Azu says finally. _And she didn’t love me, not that way_ , Azu doesn’t say. Sasha had loved so fiercely and strongly, in the glint of her knives, in her easy generosity, in her awkward smiles. But while Azu knew her own heart fell fast, she’d never seen any signs that Sasha reciprocated the romantic desire that Azu felt when she watched Sasha’s face light up in excitement when describing a trap, or settle into peace in the rare times that Sasha could feel safe. “As you said, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Staring blankly in front of her, Curie nods shallowly. There is no need for her to repeat her promise to search for Sasha and Grizzop if the world is saved; both Azu and Curie know that those reassurances are for Hamid’s ears. 

Curie drains her mug and, with a slight movement of her hand, prestidigitates it clean. She stands up slowly, the pain from her new scars evident in every motion of her body, and walks to the door, where she pauses.

“Goodnight, Azu. Thank you.”

Before Azu can answer her, Curie is out the door, leaving her alone in the dark room, her heart pendant cold and hard against her chest.

It’s almost an hour before Azu returns to bed. 


End file.
